Daylight
by Boltera
Summary: Seven times Chuck wakes up with Sarah on his mind. Including snapshots from a few times that happened, some times the probably happened, and then some that just should. Charah.


**A/N: I've been on FF for a while now, but I haven't written anything. So this is my first attempt. It's somewhat Christmassy, but also isn't. Enjoy!**

Summary: Seven times Chuck wakes up with Sarah on his mind. Including snapshots from a few times that happened, some times the probably happened, and then some that just should.

Disclaimer: I don't own Chuck.

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Daylight

1.

He wakes before his alarm. He went to bed well past midnight, and is now averaging three hours of sleep for this week. He doesn't like this trend very much, its not exactly doing wonders for his naturally sunny personality.

When he wakes before his alarm, he doesn't open his eyes. His mind is aware, somewhat, and he can see the bright ray of the rising sun through his eyelids. He readjusts in his bed, and can feel the gritty sand in his hair from last night stick to his face. Or... maybe it's dandruff? He's had awfully dry scalp ever since his birthday...

No, that's definitely sand. Sand from the beach he'd been on for some extensive period last night. He opens his eyes.

The sun is low on the horizon, just high enough to blind him through his... uh... blinds. He blinks and stumbles out of bed. His head still hurts from this computer that's hogging all his brain space. Brain space? He needs coffee.

As he makes his way into the shower, he wonders if Sarah has sand in her hair too. He hopes he'll see her again today. Even if it increases the chance of him landing in mortal peril. It would be worth it.

2.

He doesn't exactly wake up this morning, he's been up all night. He realized, the night before, that he wouldn't ever fall asleep with her lying next to him. She stayed over because of the storms, but they both kinda knew that she was staying because she wanted too. No storm could ever stop Sarah Walker.

He's been lying still as a statue all night, and as the sun rises, he wonders how long it will take for her to wake up. He wants to breathe again... because with her there... he's breathless.

He's only known her for a couple months, and he only knows how she likes her pizza. He thinks, however, that if she had a favorite band, he'd know that too. So maybe that counts. It's impossible to deny that she is beautiful, she's quite possibly the most beautiful woman ever, he thinks.

But there's more, there's a reason this woman is a trained assassin. There's a reason she has so many secrets, a reason that she hasn't abandoned this mission. There's a reason her arm is draped across his chest.

When she wakes up, she makes this little whimper that, if he hadn't already been falling for her, made him, well, fall in love with her. It's this perfect sigh of content, something so normal and vulnerable that he realizes that she is a _real_ girl.

Her palm massages his chest as she pulls her arms back into her body, he knows she's mostly confused, but that doesn't stop him from enjoying it. She's on her side when she opens her eyes, the first thing she sees are his deep brown ones staring into hers.

"Oh. Hi."

Her voice is rough, laced with sleep. She clears her throat, and maybe mumbles something about shower. She throws the covers back, and he takes a deep breath (finally). He doesn't want to think like a broken record, so he thinks that she is the visual approximation of a miracle.

"Morning, Sarah."

She smiles at him as she leaves the room, grabbing a towel along the way. His eyes can't help but follow the hem line of his old Stanford tee on her thigh as she walks out. All too suddenly, the weight of his exhaustion overcomes him. He closes his eyes, and falls asleep.

3.

Ever since the disaster that was their "first time," she spends the night more. For the cover. Now that they are sleeping together, it makes more sense. Apparently.

He is slowly growing accustomed to her, or at least her in the morning. He knows that he may not ever grow accustomed to Sarah Walker as a complete person, just bits and pieces.

But when he wakes up and his arm is only sneakily wrapped around a pillow, he's a bit confused. The sky is gray, it's winter and the sun hasn't risen quite yet. He looks at the clock, and notices that he must have missed his alarm.

He pushes back the covers and notices the indent her head must of left on the pillow next to him. So she _was_ here, he isn't going insane. But where is she now?

He opens his door and something smells so indescribably _good_. His feet follow his nose straight to the kitchen, and then stops. Sarah Walker is in his (his sister's) kitchen, making pancakes. Ellie and the Captain are sitting on the bar stools opposite the counter, making friendly morning conversation.

He didn't know that pancakes could smell so good. It's not scientifically possible that the simple fact that she's making them would make them smell any better. Is it? He doesn't know, and he doesn't think the Intersect has a file on it.

He leans against the wall, watching the scene with some kind of half-woken delight. His sister sees him, and waves. Awesome gives him nod of approval, making suggestive eyes at Sarah, and then back at him. He resists the impulse to roll his eyes. Sarah turns around, and smiles at him. It's brilliant. She's standing in his (his sister's) kitchen, making breakfast, wearing one of his shirts (and some really short shorts that you can't really see), and sporting such a perfect bed head that he can't move.

Well, he probably could. He could most definitely walk over there and kiss her. He could hold her in his arms and whisper good morning in her ear. She could lean in to him and kiss him on the cheek while simultaneously stirring the pancake batter.

But, well, that would be for the cover. Awesome would mutter, "Awesome," and Ellie would coo and sigh and hold in a squeal. Sarah would give him a slightly stunned look before shaking her head and blinking away the raw emotion in her eyes.

So he stays by the wall, letting this new day adjust around him. It's just one of those moments that isn't ready to be broken yet.

4.

He wakes up to his alarm. Ellie started setting it to 10 when he made it a habit of waking up in the middle of the afternoon. He swings his legs over the side of the bed. He grabs his robe. He shuffles into his slippers.

He rubs his beard, he's beginning to grow accustomed to it. Like he's growing accustomed to his inactivity. No job, no girl. He doesn't even have his best friend anymore.

The cheese puffs are right where he left them last night, he figures they'll make a good breakfast. He can feel Ellie's judgmental stare on his back as he takes his spot on the couch. He decides that today he can't really afford to care.

It's 10 o'clock on a Tuesday, he is sitting on the couch in his sister's home, wearing a robe and some ratty pajamas. He's an _adult_, he should have a _job_. He should have his own place and a girlfriend and a best friend and possibly some happiness.

But... but his brain is useless, according to the United States Government. But he's gone back on his word, but he just isn't there for those who love him, but the Buy-More won't even take him back. And thinking about this... well, truthfully, it's just too much work.

And that was the last cheese puff. _Awesome_.

5.

Last night, after everything... happened, he fell asleep in a chair. He let Sarah have the whole bed, he wasn't quite sure how she was going to react to it all. If she would even remember it all. But he knew he was going to have to come clean. This wasn't something he was going to be able to hide.

He woke up as soon as the light shone through the window. He looks at his watch, and notes that it is midnight back home. This chair, however, is killing his back. He yawns, gets up, and finds the laptop he hastily packed. May as well write up a report.

She doesn't wake up for another few hours. He's almost glad, it gives him time to think about every single horrendous outcome of the conversation they are going to have. He's still overwhelmingly exhausted, it's 3 A.M. back home, but he needs to be awake for her.

When she begins to stir, he bolts out of the chair. He's by her side in a second.

She's disoriented, she doesn't remember at first. But he refreshes her memory. He expects everything, he hastily begins to explain. He's still 'that' guy. After every lonely morning (except for that one with Hannah, but that was kinda weird anyway,) he _has_ to make this one count. He's still Chuck.

"You _saved_ me."

He confused, at first. But she's smiling, and leaning forward, and everything must be okay. He saved her. He's still the same guy, he's still Chuck. He flew across the continent to find her, he disobeyed orders, he killed a man. He thrashed around the night before in that insanely uncomfortable chair, dreaming of that look on Shaw's face when he fell into the river. He saved her.

Because he loves her.

Nothing, not even a decorated United States General, is going to stop them now.

6.

When he wakes up, there is no blinding sunlight, no bright shock of wavelengths frying his corneas. Sarah had the brilliant idea of pulling down his blinds. He loves her.

She's laying next to him with a small smile on her face. Even after everything they've been through lately (an accidental proposal being on the top of that list,) their problems seem to fade away when they go to sleep.

She's perfect.

He watches her sleep, which is admittedly a bit creepy, but how can he resist? He knows that they went through those questions from that book, and he knows that she said she isn't ready for things like marriage and a family. Hell, she wasn't even ready to unpack her suitcase until a week ago.

But for some reason, as he lays here looking at her in the glow of his alarm clock, he knows that if he asked her today. Right here, right now. She would say yes.

As suddenly as he comes up with the realization, he has another. He needs a plan... and it should probably involve... a Lamborghini. Yes, yes, and that beach. The beach where he promised to trust her. That beach where they fell in love... And possibly a horse? He reaches in his bedside drawer and pulls out a map.

7.

His shoulder hurts. Hurts a lot actually. Why? He groans.

His shoulder hurts, should probably open his eyes, but he's so so _tired_, and his eyelids are refusing to cooperate.

"Chuuuckk"

Oh that's Sarah. Sarah is hitting him, which explains why his shoulder hurts. She's a strong woman.

"Mmfwhafm"

"It's your turrrn"

It's always his turn. Oh well, truthfully, he doesn't mind. It's hard to leave her alone in their bed, and it's hard to sit up and it's hard to stand up. Walking, however, isn't that hard.

He walks down the hall of their home and left into the room. Inside a little girl is screaming her lungs out.

"Hey, hey, it's okay. Shhh"

He reaches in and picks her up, he gently rocks her in his arms. She immediately calms down, and he figures that she simply must be awake. No longer tired. She continues to sniffle as he rocks her.

"Shh.. Shhhh. Daddy's here now."

He doesn't want their daughter to wake Sarah, who spends too many late nights saving the world and then having to care for her family. He knows that she's earned some rest.

Eventually, he lulls her back to sleep, but he keeps her in his arms. Because he loves her. Because he loves to be able to share this morning with her.

After a while, he hears Sarah come in behind him. Even super spies have trouble being sneaky at unmentionable hours in the morning.

"Hey, you should get some sleep," He whispers.

She leans in close to him, resting her head on his arm (the same arm she's been attacking half an hour ago).

"I missed you."

He doesn't know what to say to that because, truth is, he missed her too. But now she's here completing this family portrait. His wife by his side, his daughter in his arms. The way his heart is soaring right now is so indescribable that he thinks it may be something akin to having his heart warmed. He glances at the clock. 3:47 A.M.

"Sarah,"

"Yeah?"

"Merry Christmas."

She pulled herself in closer to him, if it was somehow physically possible. She places a soft kiss on her little girl's uncovered foot. She smiles at him, as if this sleep-deprived, rainy morning is one of the best she's ever had.

"Merry Christmas, Chuck."


End file.
